


Coming Clean

by starwalker42



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s07e15 En Ami, F/M, Suicidal Thoughts, i promise csm is mentioned only in passing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwalker42/pseuds/starwalker42
Summary: "Loving Mulder is as natural as breathing. It’s not lost on her that she’s currently underwater."Mulder and Scully deal with the fallout from the events of En Ami.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 25
Kudos: 115
Collections: X-Files Angst Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	Coming Clean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MonikaFileFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaFileFan/gifts).



> My contribution for the X Files Angst Exchange for Monika (who is such a great writer than seeing her name slightly terrified me!), whose prompt was "Mulder and Scully leave the offices of CSM at the end of En Ami. Tension is high, emotions flare, and they're both struggling to withhold their thoughts and opinions. Do they express their feelings? What happens next?"  
> I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted, I love angst but hate to write Mulder and Scully fighting so may have got a little carried away! Also this hasn't been beta'd so any fault lies solely with me!

Explosions occur due to a prolonged increase of energy within a small contained area. This increases pressure. When the energy is released too suddenly, whether accidentally or on purpose, it escapes from the enclosed space into a bigger one, releasing the pressure and the built-up energy. This release is an explosion.

The small contained area in question, an otherwise non-descript sedan sitting in the middle of Washington D.C. rush hour traffic, is lacking the hum or buzz of energy build up, and lacks the outward buckle and strain indicative of a high internal pressure. But they’re there.

The two occupants of said sedan can feel them both very plainly.

They haven’t said a word since leaving the building, the building that has been completely gutted and abandoned as if no one had ever been there in the first place. Scully had debated calling intelligence to try and get a lead on who owned it, and what Spender had been doing there in the first place, but one glance at Mulder had banished that idea from her mind completely. There wasn’t going to be a paper trail to blindly follow until it led them right to the devil’s door. If Spender had wanted to be found, he wouldn’t have upped and left in the first place.

She is getting increasingly angry at herself for not being suspicious at the warning signs. She should never have allowed him to get the upper hand. He drugged her, took her to god knows where, removed her clothes and likely saw her wire, found the tape she’d mailed… how could she have been so stupid? But there’s another part of her, the part that knows that Mulder’s not completely right about what Spender is up to. He wants power, of course he does, something tells her he was born wanting power- but he needs something beyond that. Whether he’s dying or not, he felt like what was on that disk was important. She wants to believe, in a way, that he did want it for himself, to cure himself, because the alternative is too hideous to think about: taking that information for no reason other than to get rid of it, to stop the rest of humanity accessing it. No matter how she looks at it, she can’t unravel a motivation, a plan that makes sense. Maybe that was her big mistake- not considering what it was exactly that he wanted from her in the first place.

Could it be as simple as wanting her trust? Her affection? Had he become so desperate for someone, for anyone, that he was crazy enough to reach out to her? Loneliness and desperation can make a man crazy. And he was a lonely man…

 _Well_. Scully glances over at the flex of Mulder’s jaw. _That makes two of you._

Mulder is incapable of silence for very long. She’s learnt this in the very earliest days of their partnership, when he simply _would not shut up_ on the flight to Oregon. Stakeouts were a nightmare, because no matter how hard she tried Mulder would manage to coax her into a discussion on the credibility of some paranormal sighting or another, and it would often get so heated they’d forget there was an actual target to be watching. To put it bluntly, Mulder was simply not designed to sit in silence.

This was the longest she’d ever known him to be quiet of his own accord.

It wasn’t as relieving as she’d once thought it would be.

As long as he was talking, she could judge where to go next, how to play the game he clearly wanted to. But like this she can’t tell. Is he angry or disappointed? Is the sort of thing that is risking everything, or will it blow over by tomorrow? If he would just _talk_ , damnit, then maybe she would know. Maybe she could start picking up the pieces in advance.

“Mulder, I-”

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

“I don’t care.” It comes out of her lips too fast, so fast she can’t take it back. So she just keeps talking. “We can’t avoid this forever, Mulder. You can’t just-”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” His voice is quiet, dark, not dissimilar to the way she’s heard him talk to suspects, but flatter. He refuses to take his eyes off the road, even though they haven’t moved at all in the last five minutes. “And don’t make this about me.”

 _Not everything is about you!_ “I’m not-”

“Just drop it!” Mulder doesn’t shout, but the threat is there, and it sparks something inside of her.

She’s sick of avoiding difficult subjects. Sick of tiptoeing around things that they should throw out into the open and discuss like normal people. They don’t talk about their feelings, or what happened when she was taken, or her cancer, or Emily, or Diana. They don’t talk about how he’s allowed to run off and away from her without a moment’s notice but god forbid she ever does, god forbid she do _anything_ on her own or have Mulder let her make her own decisions…

“Why don’t you trust me?” It comes out sharper than intended, and for a long moment she regrets it. Maybe staying quiet is the best thing to do.

But then his jaw clenches again, and he flexes his hands on the wheel. And then, finally, he turns to look at her. There’s pain in his eyes. She’s not sure if she cares.

“You _know_ I trust you.” She wishes he would raise his voice, just a little. Anything to show what’s going on in his mind. “I just can’t-”

“Can’t what? Can’t let me go off by myself? Can’t let me out of your control? You do this all the time, Mulder, you run off and you leave me behind, but I do it _once_ and you have the nerve to be angry at _me_?”

“That’s different.” He says, and that’s the biggest load of bullshit she’s ever heard.

“How is it different? You mean because when you disappear you don’t leave me anything, no messages, no trail to follow? You just expect me to work it out by myself and come running after you to save the day?”

“I never ask you to do that!” It’s not a shout, but it’s closer. 

“But I do anyway. Even when it means risking my life, risking _everything-_ ”

He bites his lip, the lip she wishes she could bite for him, wishes she could lick and kiss and suck it rather than shouting, because the only thing she wants to do right now more than fight him is fuck him. He turns back to face the road and in a way she’s glad, because any longer looking at his face and she might not have been able to resist the urge. 

“You don’t have to risk everything. You don’t have to come after me.”

“You’re my partner. That’s what partners do, Mulder, they go after each other, they trust each other, they give all they have for each other-”

“I…” Another twitch of his jaw. She hears him swallow. “I trust you.”

He’s ready to finish this conversation, was never ready for it to start in the first place. But there’s a fire inside her right now, one that hurts, and she wants to throw some of it at him.

“Only when it suits you. _I_ go after you, _I_ trust you, _I_ give you everything.” _Don’t, Dana, don’t say it._ But she needs to. “I give you everything, Mulder, and you give me nothing.”

The silence in the car is deafening. The taillights of the car ahead bathe his profile in a red glow as he stares resolutely out of the windshield, unmoving. Then he speaks, two words so quiet she barely hears them.

“Get out.”

She does.

xXx

She doesn’t remember walking all the way back to her apartment, has no idea how she found her way or which route she took. She doesn’t remember unlocking her door, pouring herself a glass of wine and running a bath, can’t recall when she took her clothes off and slipped into the water.

She distantly remembers allowing herself to sink beneath the bubbles, though how along ago that was she isn’t certain. It could have been the eternity ago that it feels, or it could have been less than a minute. All she knows is that ever since, her lungs have ben getting emptier and her mind has been getting clearer.

She used to do this. After her abduction, after Emily, after Diana- after all the things she and Mulder never speak about. When everything got too much, it was enough to just lie back and let the water comfort her. Let it clear her head, and help the excess float away. She’d lie there, eyes closed, and focus on everything other than her thoughts. At first she’d thought of how proud Missy would have been of her, for doing this, for _feeling_ and _mediating_ and all those other things she used to preach. But that made her think of Missy, and of how she died in this exact same apartment, and how much it was her fault.

So then she lay back and drowned out the thoughts of her sister, too.

And it had always been enough, to lay back and clear her mind and then surface when it was time to breathe. Until once when it wasn’t.

She’s only considered the possibility once, never before and never since, and she still maintains she wasn’t thinking about dying. It was the first night in her apartment, back from the hospital after the Fellig case, and her mind had been whirring. She ran herself a bath and slipped in, and found herself pondering with morbid fascination about the possibility of staying down. She’s thought about it, turned it over in her mind, examined it from every angle. Medically, she’d known what would happen. Should happen.

She could just never be sure that it would.

She wonders if it counts as suicidal thinking if there’s a very good chance you can’t die.

If Spender was telling the truth, if he’s dying, he can’t have a chip. It was strange that she’d never really considered the possibility that he didn’t. He’d been missing presumed dead too many times for it to be without some level of divine extra-terrestrial influence. But he can’t have one, or he’d be fine.

Jason McPeck had been dying of incurable cancer, and he is now as healthy as any other 10 year old boy. Marjorie Butters is 118 years old, and doesn’t look a day over 60. Scully has been on the brink of death far too many times. She has _survived_ far too many times. She has been told by a psychic that she will not die. An immortal man died when she received and survived a life threatening wound, one that healed far faster than anyone thought possible. They are tied together by a metal implant in the back of their necks, keeping them alive against all odds.

If Scully were to stay under the bubbles, would death come for her? Or would it slide past, avoiding confrontation with the truth at the base of her skull, and strike another, less fortunate victim?

A child, or an elderly lady, or an innocent scientist trying so hard to do the right thing. An aging, lonely man who had nothing to leave behind in this world except the chaos he had created and the lives he had destroyed. It could target anyone. That was her biggest fear.

When Spender had first explained that this science was the cure not just for cancer but for everything, her first thought had been one of true, selfless altruism: _I can save the world._ Her second had been purely selfish: _I can save Mulder._ Save him from what, she didn’t know. Everything, maybe. If it was this science that allowed her escape death’s clutches forever and ever, she could give the same to him, and then they’d never be alone. She’d never be alone.

Fellig told her that she wouldn’t want to be around when love was gone, and she knows he was right. She’s still not sure if living forever is a terrible thing. But living forever without the love of your life surely is.

She doesn’t know how long she’s seen Mulder as that, as her only truth, as the only one that matters. In a way it’s just always been there, no matter what happens. Even earlier, arguing in the car, it was never in doubt. Loving Mulder is as natural as breathing.

It’s not lost on her that she’s currently underwater.

She debates breathing, inhaling, anyway, just to see what would happen. Not to die. Just to see what would happen next. But then she hears something crash somewhere in the apartment.

Immediately she’s pushing herself up, breaking the surface with a gasp, trying to calm her frantic breaths and pounding heart. Where’s her gun? Damn it, where are her _clothes_? She can’t fight a home invader in a towel. If Spender has sent someone to kill her, though, it won’t really matter- she doesn’t stand a chance. _The only thing I can't figure out is why you're still alive._ Have they come to finish the job?

“Scully?”

She’d expected to be angered or annoyed when she next heard his voice, not relieved. He, meanwhile, is not- she can hear him in the front room, moving, opening cupboards and searching for clues. Was this what he did a few days ago when she went missing? She hadn’t checked her messages yet but she knew to expect all of them to be his. She’d tried, hadn’t she? Why did he never let her go?

“Scully!”

“In here.”

It’s not as loud as she would’ve liked, but he hears- the sound of movement stops, and after a moment he calls out.

“Are you okay?”

Reality hits like a train.

 _No. I was about to drown myself in the bathtub, I don’t think I’m okay._ The water feels suddenly cold and alien against her skin, and she forces herself up and out of the bath with shaky arms.

“I’m fine,” she calls, hoping it’s more convincing than it sounds.

Clearly it isn’t.

“Can I come in?” Mulder’s voice has moved so it’s the other side of the door, and his worry is clear. How long had he been calling until she’d heard? “Scully?”

Despite the towel she’s wrapped around herself, she can’t stop trembling. “I was in the bath.”

There’s a pause.

“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, I’ll- I’ll go. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No.” Blind panic seizes her and in an instant she’s opened the door to the bathroom, coming face to face with Mulder. The air is colder in the hallway, and her shivers intensify. Her wet hair is freezing against her scalp. “Please don’t.”

Mulder’s eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with red. He’s still wearing the same sweater and jeans that he was earlier, and she wonders if he even got home before deciding to head over here. How long did it take her to walk back here? Their conversation in the car feels a world away.

“You’re freezing.” His voice, soft now, filled with care, and the touch of his warm hand against her arm, is enough to start the tears. “Scully?”

“You didn’t need to follow me.” She doesn’t know why that’s the first thing out of her mouth.

“You’re my partner,” he murmurs, echoing her own words back at her. “That’s what partners do.”

She chokes back a sob, leans into his chest. She needs to explain herself, but the words are struggling to come.

“I… I needed to go with him. I needed to go alone. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have believed him, but he found something inside me, Mulder, and I thought that maybe I’d found something in him.”

His arm wraps around her waist, drawing her closer. Her hair must be soaking into his sweater, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“That’s just it, Scully, I don’t think you did believe him. Not fully. But I think you wanted to, the same way you want to believe in everyone.” It’s not a criticism. In fact, she can feel the warm in his voice, the quiet pride. “When I said it’s different when I run off, I meant it. Just not in the way you think. It’s different because I don’t think about anyone but myself. And you think of everyone except yourself.”

She knows he’s right. Never when agreeing to travel with Spender did she fear or worry for herself, only for everyone else. Spender used that to his advantage and got what he needed from her. When she follows Mulder, it’s never with a thought of what might lay ahead for her, only that she needs him back. _You'd die for Mulder but you won't allow yourself to love him._ And maybe Spender was right.

“I was so scared,” Mulder whispers into her hair, and she can’t tell if he’s talking about her going off with Spender or not answering him earlier. “I knew you’d be okay, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. And that doesn’t mean I don’t trust you.”

He draws back, tilts her chin up so he can meet her eyes. “You’re my partner. In every sense of the word.” And in his eyes, she sees it: _I’d come after you, I trust you, I’ll give my all for you_. “I’m sorry I ever made you doubt that.”

“You didn’t.” She keeps her eyes on his, makes sure he sees her truth as clearly as she saw his. “You never have.”

There’s a long moment, one that is calm and reassuring rather than angry. She’s distantly aware that she’s stopped shivering, and maybe Mulder is, too, because he steps back a little, seemingly only just aware of how naked she is.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t-” he glances away with a hint of nervous laughter. “You weren’t responding, and I panicked a little.”

“It’s okay, I…” _Okay, Dana, be brave._ “I’m going to get dressed, and then… do you want to talk?”

He meets her eyes again and gives her that smile that makes her heart race. “I’d like that.”

It doesn’t solve everything: this is going to happen again, at some point down the line, and they both know that. It’s not going to solve everything. But it’s a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for everyone who's worked on this exchange, I've loved reading everyone's work! xx


End file.
